John Donne: Poet by Day, Playa by Night

22 06 2008

She’s all game, and all playas I ;
Nothin’ else is ;
Playas do but play us ; compared to this,
All’s H as a bizzle, all ballin’ a scam.
You, lady, ain’t half as high as me,
In that your herb’s a half-a-dime-bag ;
Your game’s for skeezas, and since that dank’s too dry
To warm the herb, that’s done in warmin’ us.
Smoke here with us, and you are everywhere ;
This crib your center is, these balls your sphere.

–“The Dank’s Risin'” (From The Chronic 1600)

The material above in no way reflects the views of our editors or staff members. In fact, several of our hired underlings found it offensive–Victor Weinberger, Senior Editor, Doubletake


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2 responses

24 06 2008
Dan

Sweet Christ, I can die now…..I’ve seen it all. 🙂

25 06 2008
Jenn

Sounds like the Dank’s not the only thing risin’ – J.Don had it going on. Just listen to how this masta playa wooed the bitches:

Mark but this flea, and mark in this,
How little that which thou deniest me is ;
It suck’d me first, and now sucks thee,
And in this flea our two bloods mingled be.
Thou know’st that this cannot be said
A sin, nor shame, nor loss of maidenhead ;
Yet this enjoys before it woo,
And pamper’d swells with one blood made of two ;
And this, alas ! is more than we would do.

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